Bite Strength
by Twilight Scribe
Summary: Moogles... They don't exactly have arms, you know? How did they build this nest without arms?


Disclaimer: Don't own.

AN: After writing _Indecipherable_ I decided that I rather liked Millie and her caravan. They make a good team, I think. So I thought I'd give them another adventure.

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"This is a nice place you've got here, really nice." Millie wiggled her toes into the weave of the surprisingly plush rug that lay in front of the fireplace. It was, she thought, the prime spot in the well-appointed Moogle nest, though her friends all seemed equally at ease in their places. Aldan, seated on the rough-hewn log stairs, flipped almost absentmindedly through one of his many indecipherable tomes and Jormand rocked happily in the wooden rocking chair behind her while Zan Dohl amused himself by giving their Moogle host a new haircut and paintjob. Though Millie was the first to mention it, all four were very impressed by the sheer luxury that the Moogle and his mate lived in.

The nest was warm, spacious- Especially so when you considered that its usual inhabitants were only two Moogles, and furnished in the practically hedonistic big city style of Alfitaria's upper class with many comforts the caravanners couldn't find at home in Tipa; like sinfully soft beds (When they first arrived in the nest their hosts graciously let an exhausted Jormand take a nap on the bed they had in the upper level, and then had to fight tooth and nail with the help of his comrades to get him out again.) and white sugar in the larder. (Zan Dohl got into it. There was chaos.)

It was not something you would expect from a monster's den out in the middle of the miasma-shrouded wilderness. Not at all.

"Actually, your nest is a lot nicer than most of the houses I've seen in towns. You really have it good here."

"Yes, it's wonderful." Aldan murmured, half-paying attention to the conversation now that he was less absorbed in his reading.

"And well-built. Let me tell ye, if my Lilty forefathers could 'ave built all their mines this solidly, why they'd 'ave been happy as caveworms!" Jormand crowed, giving an extra vigorous rock in his chair and a sweeping gesture to the entire nest.

"Thanks, kupo!" Their host bounced on his heels proudly, his pompom bobbing in a slightly different rhythm. "We built it ourselves, my gal and I, kupo." The comment caught Zan's attention and he paused in the middle of his grooming.

"How?" All eyes turned to rest on him. "Well, Moogles... They don't exactly have arms, you know? How did you build this nest without arms?" Luckily their host didn't seem offended, the Moogle was actually grinning.

"We used our teeth, kupo." The Moogle didn't seem too upset with the incredulous stares he received from the caravanners as they all considered the revelation that Moogles had teeth. It really was an earth-shaking discovery. Sure, they had all seen occasional glimpses of shiny white enamel in Moogle mouths, but more often than not Moogles seemed to only have tongues... But yes, their host didn't seem upset. If anything, he actually seemed happy.

As the caravanners sat in befuddled silence the Moogle's grin grew wider and wider and wider; pulling back his fuzzy lips to reveal rows upon rows of long, sharp, saliva-coated teeth- A collection of jagged fangs, incisors, and canines that any Cerberus would kill for- All glittering threateningly in the firelight. "We have really big teeth, kupo."

The caravanners had a slew of questions, first among them being "How in foul, stinking miasma can such a little monster have so many teeth?!" but they figured that, in light of their host's impressive and slightly demented-looking pearly whites, it would be in their best interests to simply smile and nod...

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AN: Think about it. Moogles live awesomely comfy nests, I believe at least one pair claims to have built their nest themselves, and the others hardly live in areas where work crews could get to; so it stands to reason that most, if not all, Moogles make their own nests. Combine that with having no arms and being (seemingly) too fuzzy and defenseless for their own good in the dangerous monster-ridden world and you come to one conclusion: Moogles must have a secret natural weapon. Namely, a mouthful of terrifying choppers.

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End file.
